


The Tiniest Lion in Skyhold

by tklivory



Series: Dragon Age: Inquisition - General [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Animals, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Kittens, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Silly, Smutty Literature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tklivory/pseuds/tklivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in the midst of the battle against his lyrium cravings, Cullen receives an unusual gift from Inquisitor Lavellan: a teeny, tiny tawny kitten that slightly resembles a lion. Dubbed Tiny by all and sundry, the kitten quickly becomes a part of Skyhold life. But what, precisely, does that mean for the rest of the denizens of Skyhold?</p><p>Originally from a prompt from Mahayla224 on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Always Room For One More

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter features Tiny with a different prominent NPC. If you are looking for a specific character, they usually are mentioned in the first few paragraphs of the particular chapter related to them.

_Just throw the damned thing away,_  Cullen told himself. Again. For perhaps the hundredth time. _Throw it away and be done with it. Keep your promise to the Inquisitor._  

It was no use. Nothing he told himself mattered. The lyrium kit remained open, on his desk, and literally right under his nose. It had been a bad day, the cravings and the withdrawal shaking him with equal strength. Even now, as his hand started to reach out towards the lyrium, he only stopped because he saw how wildly his hand was shaking.

 _A bad day. You knew they would come._ He took a long, deep breath. _You withstood the demons at Kinloch Hold. Surely you can stand strong against this addiction._  The words rang increasingly hollow, though, and he clenched his hand into a fist. 

When the door opened, the distraction was enough to give him the strength to slam the lyrium kit shut and throw it into one of the drawers of his wobbly desk. “Inquisitor,” he said politely, all too aware that he must look rather pathetic at the moment. “You’re early for our meeting.”

The elf scrutinized him closely as she walked over to stand close to him, and he forced himself not to jerk away as her hand came up to rest on his forehead. “Bad day?” she asked in a sympathetic tone, withdrawing her hand to clasp them behind her back.

There really didn’t seem to be any point in denying it, so he simply nodded and said, “Yes.”

“You missed practice this morning,” she noted. “You know how upset I get when I miss an opportunity to land my Commander flat on his ass in front of the troops.”

The comment made him chuckle, lightening his mood instantly. He knew that the Inquisition forces were inordinately proud of their tiny, two-handed warrioress leader, and seeing her knock him on his ass was as much a morale booster as all the hot meals and sturdy shoes in Thedas. “I’m sorry to have denied you the opportunity.”

The Inquisitor opened her mouth to speak, and Cullen tilted his head as the oddest sound seemed to come from her mouth. “Ah, Inquisitor... I know I’ve called you sex kitten in the past, but you really don’t have to go quite _that_  far.”

She rolled her eyes and hit his arm, making him rock slightly, then brought her other hand out and around her body. “I was _going_  to say that I’d brought you a present, but if you’d rather be a smart-ass, I can take him away again.”

Cullen blinked as she lifted her hand up higher. “Is that--”

“--an actual kitten, yes. The cat in the tavern gave birth.” Lavellan smiled as she reached up to gently stroke the tiny little ball of fluff. “Cole’s been like a mother hen with them for a few weeks now - at least, when he hasn’t gone out with me. I don’t think it occurred to him to tell anyone until I asked him where the cat had gone. When he showed them to me, though, he picked this one up and said I should give it to you.”

“He did?” Cullen asked, surprised.

Lavellan nodded. “He said, and I quote, _Let the tiny roar remind the big roar of what he can do.”_

Cullen looked at the small animal more closely. His markings were rather plain, but what Cullen _did_  notice was the color: tawny through and through. In fact, he could only think of one other animal that was quite that shade of light tanned brown. A smile came to his lips as he gently took the animal from the woman before him, and pulled him to rest against his breastplate. “Tiny roar, hmm?”

“The tiniest lion in Skyhold,” Lavellan chuckled.

“All right. Let’s see what he can show the largest lion in Skyhold, then,” Cullen replied with a grin.

Over the next few days, he learned several very important things about the tiniest lion in Skyhold. The first thing he learned is that the kitten loved nothing in the world as much as the fur lining the neck of Cullen’s cloak. Though the kitten first laid claim to the fur at night when Cullen wasn’t wearing it, the ball of fur soon learned how to climb Cullen’s clothing and find his favorite place no matter what Cullen was doing. 

Soon, the whole of Skyhold became accustomed to the sight of the Lion of Ferelden walking through the fortress with a tawny, fluffy lump on his shoulder. The kitten refused to be parted from Cullen - or, more specifically, the fur around his neck - even going so far as to climb him during combat practice or during meetings around the War Table. Once, to Cullen’s endless consternation, the kitten even snuggled down into the fur and proceeded to purr loudly from where Cullen had discarded it in a desperate bid to get naked as swiftly as possible after Lavellan had kept him after one of those meetings for a ‘special session’ on the War Table.

The second thing he learned was that the kitten loved to hunt. The few times he was not on Cullen’s shoulder, the kitten was hunting, tail lashing dangerously as it stalked its prey. Nothing was safe, particularly Josephine’s quill, Dorian’s books, Solas’ paintbrushes, and Leliana’s crows. That earned him several cross looks from Josephine and a clandestine inquiry from Dorian on where he’d _gotten_  the kitten.

However, the most important thing he learned was that kittens couldn’t stand lyrium. Every time Cullen pulled out his kit to stare his addiction down the throat and struggle against its pull, the kitten would hiss, jump down on the table, and constantly bat at Cullen’s hands until the kit was put away. 

At which point the kitten would climb Cullen’s cloak and curl up into a ball on his shoulder, purring loudly.

Oh, the bad days still happened, of course. But somehow, they were easier to face with a ball of unabashedly loud vibrating fur on his shoulder.

And then came the day when he pulled out the kit and didn’t open it.  _Just throw the damned thing away,_ Cullen told himself.  _Throw it away and be done with it. Keep your promise to the Inquisitor._

On his shoulder, the kitten yawned hugely, then looked up at Cullen and meowed piteously. Cullen smiled.  _Maybe the tiny roar really can teach me something._

A small rectangular box was thrown out of a tower window that day, and no one missed it.

Especially not the tiniest lion in Skyhold.


	2. The Paw is Mightier Than the Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny reveals his hidden talent as ambassador.

When the light touch first brushed against his nose, Cullen just grunted. When the second one rubbed against his cheek, a little smile came to his lips. “Hmm?” he managed, though his eyes remained closed. When the third graced his lips, his brow furrowed. Lavellan’s wake up kisses usually weren’t so... _furry._

When the soft sensation suddenly turned into a sharp nip made by sharp teeth, he yelped and jerked awake, only then remembering that Lavellan and her chosen crew had hared off on yet another task somewhere in Crestwood to meet with the Champion of Kirkwall and some mysterious Warden friend of his. He had to blink a few times before the curious little face in front of his came into focus, and he smiled. “Good morning, Tiny. Is it that time already?”

The little tawny kitten emitted a loud, high-pitched meow, letting him know it was _definitely_  time to get out of bed. Why, the sun had been up for almost an hour already!

Cullen groaned, then grabbed the kitten with one hand and pulled it closer, snuggling it against his neck as he sat up and stretched with one hand. “You’re even better than the patrols for calling the time,” he muttered to the little bundle of fur, eliciting another meow. “All right, all right, I’m getting up! Keep your fur on.”

Making various noises generally associated with a very reluctant rousing, Cullen scooted to the end of the bed and spent the next few minutes puttering around and getting dressed. Tiny never ventured very far, hopping between his shoulder, the mattress, and the small of Cullen's back depending on his human's position at any particular moment. When the great fur cloak was taken from its stand and swept over his shoulders, the kitten meowed in a long, loud fashion and eagerly climbed Cullen until he reached one of the warrior’s furred shoulders. As Cullen waited patiently with a smile on his face, Tiny kneaded the soft fur a few times before finally turning in a circle and settling down onto his favorite bed, his purr as indecorous and delightful as only a kitten could manage.

That raucous purr accompanied Cullen as he climbed down the ladder, checked for any messages that might have gotten dropped off in the night, and quickly brushed his teeth with one of the cinnamon twigs from the supply in his desk. Then he headed out to begin his day.

After a bracing breakfast of eggs, cheese and potatoes for himself and mountain-stream trout for Tiny, he spent a good hour with the men, walking up and down their ranks critiquing, praising, and occasionally pausing so a soldier could greet Tiny with a scratch to the head. Tiny, who by now was inured to the clash of blades and the thump of swords against shields, spent most of the time with eyes closed and the tip of his tail over his nose, purring contentedly. 

When the hour had passed, and the bath dispensed with to Tiny’s perpetual horror, he made his way to Josephine’s office and sank into the chair across from her desk.

Jospehine quickly reached into her desk and pulled out a ragged quill, tossing it onto the desk as Tiny stood and stretched, his little spine rising into a perfect arc. “Make sure he plays with that one,” she reminded Cullen as Tiny leapt from Cullen’s shoulder to knee, and from there to the desk.

Cullen chuckled. “As if I’d forget after what happened last time,” he noted. Quickly he grabbed the ragged quill and twitched it above Tiny’s head a few times, then dropped it down. The kitten immediately wrapped himself bodily around it and began to kick it ferociously with his back feet, growling in an astonishingly cute manner. “There. We have a few minutes.”

“Very good, Commander. Something... has come up.”

 _Uh oh._  “That doesn’t sound good,” Cullen observed with a frown, then saw the faint tinge of amusement in Josephine’s expression, and suddenly just _knew_. “Let me guess. Sutherland.”

“Sutherland _and Company,”_  Josephine reminded him parsimoniously with a sweep of her quill. 

Cullen snorted. “He has _one_  person reporting to him, and suddenly it’s a _company._  All right, what is it this time?” He wasn’t _quite_  ready to admit it yet, but Sutherland _had_  proven useful in getting rid of those brigands without having to waste Inquisition resources on it.

"A situation similar to the last one, with a minor twist.” Josephine held up a letter written in a rough hand which was obviously not her elegant script. “A request has come in that we send Inquisition forces to deal with bandits, but there are indications that the so-called ‘bandits’ might have been Leliana’s agents.”

Nodding in understanding, Cullen said, “Ah, I see. So if we _do_  send Inquisition forces--”

“--and they come out empty-handed, it will make us look bad. Obviously, however, if they are, in fact, Leliana's agents, then we _want_ whoever we send to come up empty-handed. Thus..." Her voice trailed away as she looked at Cullen expectantly.

He made a  _get on with it_ gestured. "Yes, yes, if we send ‘allies’, any failure will be on them, and not upon the Inquisition.”

"Very good, Commander. You might learn diplomacy yet," Josephine said, pleased, as she set the paper in her hand aside and focused for a moment on other papers on the desk for a moment.

"I wouldn't count on it," Cullen muttered under his breath. 'Diplomacy' seemed to him just a way to faff about and avoid just taking care of the problem in a straightforward manner.

"What was that?" she asked, looking up.

He straightened in his chair. "Nothing."

Luckily at that exact moment, Tiny, who had, it seemed, managed to terrorize the quill into submission, accidentally rolled off the desk, eyes widening for a split second the moment before he disappeared from Josephine's view with a startled  _Mrowr!_

"Will he be all right?" she asked, standing and coming around the desk to look anxiously at where Tiny sat shaking his head vigorously. 

"He'll be fine," Cullen assured her. "He's fallen off of my desk a few times and is no worse for the wear."

Indeed, when Josephine made an attempt to lean down and grab him, Tiny simply scuttled under her desk, then meowed questioningly before a telltale raucous rumble emerged from underneath the desk. With a shrug, Jospehine settled herself to lean against it and crossed her arms as she looked pointedly at Cullen, eyebrow raised and mien mirthful. "He's not the only thing to have fallen off your desk, from what I've heard."

Cullen's ears heated.  _Maker's breath._  Jim. It had to be. He'd walked in on them once while Cullen had Lavellan pinned onto-- "That's not important right now," he snapped. "What more can you tell me about this Sutherland business?"

Josephine's control of her smirk was admirable as she said, “I have crafted a response for Sutherland to convey to the Orlesian Baron in question. It is a minor task but with the potential to foster good will, and even the most minor of lords can raise major fusses if not treated as they think they are owed.”

“Don’t remind me,” Cullen groaned. They’d had a few run-ins with _those_  kinds of lords, with _very_ mixed results when it came to the Inquisition's reputation. “Best not to rile him if we can avoid it.” He held out his hand expectantly. “Give me the letter. I’ll deliver it to Sutherland when I give him the assignment.”

Josephine nodded and turned to take it from her immaculate desk, but froze and gasped, her face going white. “Oh, no!”

Starting to his feet in unconscious response to her distress, Cullen’s eyes fell on what she was looking at, and he began to laugh helplessly. On the letter which she had obviously intended to send with Sutherland, a delicate tracery of tiny black pawprints had mysteriously worked their way down one side and up the other, with a couple of prints near the bottom of the page where a seal should have been for good measure. “It sseems someone got adventurous,” he admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I take it that’s the letter you wanted me to give to Sutherland?”

Josephine glared daggers as a little bundle of fur bolted from underneath the desk and ran to hide in the distant corner of the room. “Yes, and it will take some time to craft again. The lord Baron's influence may be minor, but his ego is not.”

Cullen just rolled his eyes and stood, reaching over to take the paper regardless of Josephine’s preference. “Then it’s not officially from the Inquisition, is it?”

Pausing in the act of reaching out to take the paper, Josephine said, “Well... no, it was intended to be from ‘Sutherland and Company’ but--”

“But nothing. It’s fine. Sutherland’s always ready to leave on a mission at the drop of a hat, so I'll go ahead and send him out with this.” He paused to pick up the ‘play’ quill and held it out to Josephine. “Looks like he snapped this one, too. Better find a new toy. That ink apparently is too tempting to dip his paws into.”

Josephine scowled and muttered under her breath as she took a kerchief from her sleeve and began to scour the inky pawprints from the rest of her desk. “At least he did not walk on any _actual_  Inquisition papers.”

“Yes, good. See you later then?” he said with a chuckle as he turned and walked out of the room. The familiar sudden weight and sharp claws working up his clothes was so familiar by now that he barely noticed as Tiny settled onto his shoulder. “You’re lucky that fur is already black,” he murmured to the furball as he walked to the tavern.

Tiny just meowed, then settled down for a good, solid purr.

* * *

* * *

A week later, he was summoned back to Josephine’s office, a trip he took with some trepidation, since the message had specifically requested Tiny’s presence. When he entered the large room, he found Sutherland standing to attention in front of Josephine’s desk, though as Cullen approached, the young soldier turned and saluted.

“Commander Cullen, ser!”

“Sutherland,” Cullen said with a nod. “At ease.”

“Yesser, ser!” Sutherland said, then paused. “I mean Commander.”

“Report. Was the mission a success?” Cullen asked as Tiny climbed down his side and moved over to sniff boldly at Sutherland’s shoes.

“Uh...” Sutherland glanced at Josephine.

“They did not find any bandits, Commander,” Josephine said. “However, when the lord Baron saw the letter of introduction, he was so amused that he decided to openly declare himself as a supporter of the Inquisition.”

Cullen suddenly grinned. “It was the pawprints, wasn’t it?”

Josephine sighed. “Yes, very well, it was the pawprints. Apparently the Baron’s daughter has a kitten, and once she saw the letter, she insisted that the Baron ‘be friends with the Inquisition.”

‘Well, she actually said _fwiends,”_  Sutherland noted. 

Turning his attention to the young soldier, Cullen raised an eyebrow. “How old is said daughter?” 

“Ten,” Sutherland admitted. 

Cullen chuckled and glanced down, then looked around the room when he couldn’t find Tiny immediately. “Well, I’m glad that worked out so splendidly. I presume you’ll have a full report on my desk in the morning.”

“Yes, ser, Commander, ser!” Sutherland said.

“Good. Dismissed,” Cullen said with a nod.

After ripping an overly enthusiastic salute, Sutherland walked - well, _marched_  was actually a more accurate descriptor - from the room, chest swelled with the pride of bringing home another win for the Inquisition.

“Not _quite_  where I expected this mission to go, but I’ll take a win where we can get them,” Cullen said as he completed a turn to look for Tiny. “So it wasn’t a complete disaster like you feared, was it?” When there was no immediate answer, he turned to Josephine. “I said--”

He stopped and stared at what he found.

“You will have to learn how to keep your paw straight before touching the paper,” Josephine told Tiny. “That last letter was quite a bit smudged in some places.”

Tiny looked up at Josephine and meowed, then rubbed his head against her arm.

“This is no laughing matter, Tiny,” Josephine admonished the kitten. “If we are to capitalize on this, you must learn how to consistently make the same imprint. Is that understood?”

Turning his head so it was almost upside down, Tiny meowed again, though the sound turned into a purr halfway through as he bumped his head against her chest.

“That means he wants you to pet him while you talk,” Cullen told Josephine.

“I know what it means, Commander,” she said, glancing up at Cullen. “Haven’t you ever negotiated with him? It is no wonder that he has the run of your life and Skyhold. Even cats can negotiate.”

Cullen just laughed as he sat down in the chair across from Josephine. “Don’t let me interrupt such important negotiations, then. Pray, continue.”

Josephine nodded and looked back down at the kitten. “Now, I would appreciate it if-- No, batting at my face is not going to get you-- I said stop-- No, don’t think for a moment that nudging your head against my chin will work either.” Josephine nevertheless couldn’t help but smile, even as she tried to admonish the small creature.

Cullen put his hands behind his head as he watched the scene, until it became clear that the ‘negotiations’ were clearly in Tiny’s favor. “Ah, Ambassador,” he said gently, “I do have other work to do.”

“Surely he can stay here for the day?” Josephine asked, looking up at Cullen.

It took all of Cullen’s formidable willpower not to laugh. _How_  Tiny had gotten a perfect little black pawprint on her cheek, he would never know, but he was just grateful that Josephine didn’t have a mirror in her office. “It’s also his lunchtime. I’d better take him down to the kitchens.”

She sighed, then stood and held Tiny out to Cullen. “Very well. But I expect him to attend our meetings from now on. That Baron is not the only one with impressionable young children. Whimsy does have its place in _some_  negotiations.”

“Anything you say, Ambassador.” Taking Tiny, he settled the kitten onto his shoulder. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course, Commander." Josephine raised her hand and gave a little wave to Tiny, then quickly lowered and looked embarrassed. “Ah, yes, well. Good day, Commander.” Sitting down, she quickly returned to work, still oblivious to the pawprint on her cheek.

After they left the room, Cullen said, “The tiniest Lion, and now the tiniest Ambassador. You’re going to be quite formidable when you grow older.”

Tiny meowed loudly, then kneaded his paws in Cullen’s fur before turning in a circle and settling down. His mouth stretched in a wide yawn, and then the raucous purr filled the air around Cullen again.

Chuckling, Cullen murmured, _“Very_  formidable.”


	3. Talented with Tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Lavellan relax in a meadow - but of course, they're not quite alone.

Cullen sighed contentedly as the sunlight warmed his face. Spring had come to Skyhold, and that meant that even up here in the mountainous reaches, little pockets of flowers and verdant grass could be found - especially by a very inquisitive Inquisitor. With a smile on his face and his head nestled in a blanket stolen from Lavellan’s overly opulent quarters, he wangled his arm under the elf lying on the ground next to him and snugged her closer. “You know, this really was an excellent idea.”

Lavellan snorted and snuggled closer to him. “Of course it was. I thought it up.”

“You know, that’s what I like the most about you,” he teased her. “Your incredible modesty.”

She shrugged and tickled his face with one of the flowers in her hands before returning to her task. “Hey, if you’re perfect, there’s no reason to hide it, you know.”

“And you _are_  perfect.” The words were innocent, but the way his hand dug under her to squeeze her hindquarters was anything _but_  innocent. His wide grin when she yelped was enough to startle Tiny, though, and the kitten suddenly bounded off of Cullen’s stomach with enough force to push a strangled _oof_  from his human’s mouth.

“There, see?” Lavellan said triumphantly. “Never tease the Inquisitor. Even the wildlife will turn against you.”

“Tiny is _hardly_  wild--” Cullen began, then stopped as two paws landed on his forehead and an upside down feline face obscured his vision. “Why, hello, Tiny. You think she’s perfect, don’t you?”

Tiny meowed in apparent agreement, then started to groom Cullen’s eyebrows studiously. His loud, raucous purr quickly filled the small meadow, oddly amplified and deepened by the intense movements of his tongue.

“I think you must have missed something in your morning bath,” Lavellan said with a giggle.

“Oh, yes, make fun of the man getting his face sanded down,” Cullen said, trying not to wince as Tiny turned his attention to Cullen’s forehead. “My word, his tongue _is_  rough, isn’t it? He’s only gotten my hand up until now.”

“Maybe next time you’ll take poor Dorian seriously when he complains about Tiny’s insistence on grooming his mustache,” Lavellan insisted.

Cullen winced as Tiny hit a particularly sensitive part of skin near to one of his eyes. “I’m starting to understand his objection.”

“Well, it’s hard to take his complaints about Tiny seriously when people keep reporting that Tiny never leaves Dorian’s lap when he visits the library,” Lavellan conceded. “Almost done.”

“Good. My forehead can’t take much more of-- Oh, good, now he’s back to playing with my nose.” Cullen wiggled his fingers at Tiny in an attempt to distract him from the kitten’s new game of batting at his nose, but the kitten wasn’t having any of it. “Why does he like it so much?”

“Well, I happen to think its perfect,” Lavellan said with a chuckle, throwing his words back at him. “Or maybe that’s you? Hmmm... No, Skyhold can only hold one specimen of complete perfection. Sorry.”

Cullen grabbed at Tiny, but the purring kitten easily evaded his attempt and leapt onto Cullen’s chest, butting his head determinedly against the man’s chin. Now resigned to his fate, Cullen stroked Tiny’s soft fur, taking his time to scratch behind the kitten’s ears and down his back. “So that would be Tiny, then?” he joked with a smile. That smile turned softer as Tiny writhed higher so he could start rubbing his head all over Cullen’s neck. “He’s quite the affectionate one, isn’t he?”

“Well, who wouldn’t be around you?” Lavellan teased, knowing full well the fierce reputation Cullen meticulously maintained in Skyhold - despite the kitten who was more or less a permanent fixture on his shoulder. “Right, I think it’s done.”

Rolling so she could sit up, Lavellan grabbed Tiny despite his squeak of protest, then wedged the flower crown onto the kitten’s head. Holding the kitten next to her face, she looked at Cullen and blinked rapidly. “Adorable.”

Cullen laughed as Tiny began to bat at his own head, trying to get at the petals dangling tantalizingly in front of his eyes. “Perfectly so.”

When Tiny began to wriggle, Lavellan set the kitten down and watched him bound away a few feet. At that point, Tiny fell onto his side and begin ferociously biting his own back paws as he tried to figure out how to get the flower crown off his head in order to properly eviscerate it.

Cullen’s gaze had followed the motion, but his laugh was abruptly cut off when he felt Lavellan position herself between his legs. Startled, he looked down at her, pushing himself up onto his elbows as he began, “What--”

“It’s only fair that if your kitten gets to lick all over your face, I get to lick all over something else,” she said with a purr all her own.

As her hands deftly opened his trousers and tugged them down, Cullen let his head fall back with a soft moan.  _“Maker’s breath!”_


	4. Hello, Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a favor to ask of Varric.

“Varric!” Cullen said with relief when he entered the main hall and saw the dwarf in his familiar place in front of the fire. “Good, you’re here. I need a favor.”

Varric raised his eyebrow as Cullen approached. “Oh, this ought to be good, considering how much money you still owe me from that last round of Wicked Grace in the tavern.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. I’ll get that to you later.” Reaching up to his furry shoulder, he extracted a by-now familiar tawny little furball and put it on the table in front of Varric. “I’m meeting with some representatives of the Orlesian army, and Leliana’s agents just learned that their leader has problems with cats.”

Tiny sat on his haunches and looked up at Varric with a questioning meow, then walked to the edge of the table and started sniffing at the dwarf’s chest hair.

“Well, hello, Kitty,” Varric said to the kitten, then looked up at Cullen as he pushed the kitten away gently. Unfortunately the motion made Tiny notice the quill in his hand, and suddenly it was a battle royale between Tiny and the feathery implement. “A problem with cats. What, he doesn’t like them?”

“More like his eyes swell up and he has trouble breathing. Her report just got here, and they’re--” Cullen glanced to the doorway as three armored men strode in. “No time. Just... take care of him, all right? Thanks. I’ll pay you double,” he added as he turned, then strode to the men with the confidence of the Commander of the Inquisition, coming to a halt next to Lavellan and Josephine. A few moments later, after the formal introductions were out of the way, they headed back to Josephine’s office, leaving Varric to the kitten’s mercies.

Varric finally managed to extract his quill from the kitten’s vicious attacks. “Now look here,” he told the small kitten as Tiny repositioned himself and settled onto his haunches again. “I need you to leave the quill alone. It’s kind of important to what I do, and I have a lot of letters to get out. So,” he held the quill in front of the kitten, then jerked it out of reach when Tiny batted at it, “don’t touch the feather. I’m sure you can find something else to entertain you.”

Ten minutes later, they’d negotiated through _several other things_  that Tiny was Not To Touch. His papers, his ink, his hair, his _chest_ hair, his tunic: all of them were tugged and pulled out of place one way or another, and Varric had now cleared the table in his immediate vicinity. Holding the kitten on his hind legs in front of his face, Varric said sternly, “Don’t touch _anything,_  all right?”

Tiny meowed and batted at his nose.

“What part of _don’t touch anything_ did you not understand?” Varric demanded.

The kitten blinked slowly at him, and then suddenly his entire chest began to vibrate. Taken aback by the sheer volume and intensity of the purring, Varric set the kitten back down on the table. Tiny’s mouth expanded into a sudden, wide yawn and he shook his head, looking up at Varric with a slow blink. His next meow was mixed up with his purr, creating a chirruping sound that was... well. Charming, actually.

“You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re not trying to destroy everything in sight,” he told the kitten.

Tiny made that same soft sound, half meow and half purr, then head butted Varric’s chest and began to aggressively rub his head against the dwarf’s tunic.

“Hey, whoa, are you okay? That shouldn’t be anyone’s favorite pastime, you know,” he said, picking up Tiny and cradling him in his hands because... well, he fit there just perfectly. Lifting him up, Varric said, “You do know I can’t call you Tiny, right? I mean, that’s the big guy’s name. Can’t call you and him by the same name. It’s against the rules or something.”

The purring intensified, and Tiny began to vigorously rub his head against Varric’s jaw and cheeks, the purring resonating even louder now that he was closer to Varric’s ears.

“Right. Well. So long as you understand, then I think we’re good.” Varric watched with bemusement as Tiny yawned, the purring making even _that_  sound interesting, and he smiled and pulled Tiny to his chest. “I can’t call you Kitten, either. Someone else called Daisy that. Same principle.”

Tiny’s front paws reached out and sank into Varric’s chest hair, then began to flex, alternating between each paw as as the purring seemed to settle into a rhythm that matched the motions. Surprisingly, despite the claws - _talons,_  given how sharp they’d felt earlier - coming in and out regularly, Varric didn’t mind the occasional pricking of his chest. There was actually even something... cute about it.

“You’re not going to be doing any wonders for my reputation, are you?” he asked the kitten in his arms. Tiny’s amber eyes half-opened at the sound of his voice, and then he sighed, a deep inhale and exhale and expanded his body by an impressive amount before returning to his regular raucous purring.

“Right.” Varric shifted his grip until he was holding Tiny with one hand. Then he slowly pulled his work back to sit in front of him, pausing when the kneading stopped and waiting for it to begin again. Once he was sure Tiny was content, he picked up his bedraggled quill and set to work again.

By the time Cullen returned to collect the kitten, Tiny had woken up and was feeling playful again. The Commander found Tiny on his back, Varric’s quill dangling overhead as it wove around the kitten’s attempts to claim it with aggressive paw swipes. Varric felt completely relaxed for the first time in... well, years.

Raising an eyebrow, Cullen said, “I can leave him here, if you’d prefer.”

Varric looked up, a bit startled to realize the man was back, then quickly sat up straight. “Nah. He’s cute, but he’s not really my style. Besides...” He glanced around the hall, then lowered his voice. “If Hawke ever heard about this, he’d never let me hear the end of it. Cute? I’m not supposed to be into _cute.”_

“Yes, well, Tiny has a mind of his own.” Swooping the kitten up with one hand, Cullen settled Tiny on his shoulder and waited for him to turn around in a few circles before settling down. “Thanks, Varric. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“Let’s not go crazy here,” Varric told him. “I... might be willing to watch him again. You know. If you’re really desperate or something.”

Cullen smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. We still up for Wicked Grace tonight?”

“As long as you bring your money this time, Curly. I’ve got my eye on you.” His eyes went to the kitten, then added, “And... you can bring him along. You know, if you want.”

The smile stretched into a grin. “I’m sure Tiny appreciates the invitation. See you tonight, then.” He turned and strode from the hall.

“Maker, I hope Hawke never hears about that,” Varric muttered, then delved into his tasks once more.


	5. Snurgling in Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tiniest lion in Skyhold discovers how fun it is to disrupt Cassandra's day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Please refer to [this post](http://pettyartist.tumblr.com/post/55826843206/unimpressedcats-kitty-massage-fun-fact-this) if you are unfamiliar with snurgling. Thank you.

_Of course it wasn’t that easy. Nothing could_ ever _be that easy, not in Kirkwall. The line between the rich and the poor was sharper than a knife, and if you tried to cross it, you always ended up bleeding. It was a lesson Damion learned the hard way, watching his blood trickle away in a crimson river down a dead-end alley after being shoved off the blade of a thug who thought his money would make a sweeter sound in a different purse._

_And then_ she _had appeared, a glory of a woman whose red hair shone in the lamplight. The thug tried to run, of course - all criminals knew what would happen if the Captain caught them, and it wasn’t pretty. But he didn’t get away. They never did._

_As she returned with his purse, wiping the blood from her blade, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. A halo seemed to surround her, though that might have been the fact that he was dying - he wasn’t sure. He only knew that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen - and he wanted to get to know her better._

_“I’ve sent for help,” she said in the most beautiful of brusque tones. “Are you all right?”_

_“I’m bleeding like a stuck pig,” he pointed out gallantly._

_She frowned and removed the scarf from around her neck. “Let’s see if I can help with that.” Kneeling beside him, she pressed her scarf into his wound. “Hold on. We’ll get you through.”_

_And then their eyes met._

Cassandra started as a small bundle of tawny fur suddenly landed on the pages of her book. “What--” was all she managed to gasp before the kitten leapt away again, sprinting through the grass towards the practice dummies. She blinked, then made a disgusted noise as she saw the muddy pawprints now in her book. “Oh, for--”

As she carefully flicked away bits of mud from the paper, a shadow fell across her. A glance up showed Cullen standing nearby, a worried look on his face as he looked around the area.

“If you are looking for your feline friend,” Cassandra said, “he ran off in that direction.” She gestured to the practice dummies.

“Ah. Thank you,” Cullen said, expression relieved, then hurried off.

With a small shake of her head, she worked the last bit of mud - which was mostly dry, thank the Maker - from her book and settled back into reading again.

_It was like magic - the good kind, not the kind that involved demons and crazy. Nothing else seemed to matter for a few moments as he looked into her eyes, green as the greenest grass he’d ever walked on outside this blighted Void of a city. He probably would have looked longer if she hadn’t pushed her scarf into his wound hard enough to make him wince and look down._

_“I’ve seen you around,” she said, making Damion’s stomach flutter - or maybe that was the pain. It was kind of hard to tell at the moment. “Usually in Lowtown. What brings you to Hightown?”_

_“Ah, just a meeting with business associates, that’s all,” he told her, trying to ignore the way the world was starting to go black at the edges. “You’re the Captain of the Guard, right? Ave-”_

_“Captain, yes. Now sit here and don’t move,” she ordered him curtly, and his stomach fluttered again. He liked it when a woman got bossy._

_Things were looking up - including him as his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out from blood loss._

Feeling something prod her in the side, Cassandra blinked and tore her attention away from the book to look down at the cause of the interruption. A face of fur and whiskers was looking up at her, and when she looked at him, he meowed plaintively, then began to butt his head into her side again.

“What on Thedas could you possibly want from me?” she demanded. “Cullen is over there.” She gestured with one hand towards where she’d seen him last and tried to return her attention to her book.

The kitten was not so willing to give up, however, and continued bumping his head into her repeatedly. That was easier to ignore than the rumbling sound that soon erupted from him, and after a few moments she sighed heavily and set the book aside.

Picking up the diminutive feline, she held him in front of her face and told him sternly, “I am trying to enjoy my book, little one. I think you should go back to-- No, stop hitting my nose.” She moved him slightly, but he reached out and batted at her cheek, meowing again in a way that mixed the sound of his purr with it. “I am not so easily persuaded as Josephine,” Cassandra told him sternly. “Now go find Cullen.” Setting him on the ground, she patted his back awkwardly, then picked up her book again and opened it to where she’d been.

_When he woke up, he found himself looking into another face, and he felt his eyes widen. “Andre! What are you-?”_

_“Hush,” the man told him, looking around furtively. “The Captain called me here, but of course, we can’t be seen together.”_

_Damion’s brow furrowed, then cleared. “Oh, right. Apostate thing. Got it.”_

_Andre’s face settled into a pained expression, which worried Damion. His wound must be worse than he thought. “Yeah. That. Anyway, let’s get you back to Lowtown before anyone else asks too many questions about what you were looking for here.”_

_“Ohhhhhh, riiiight. Probably a good idea,” Damion nodded sagely. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know I was going to buy--”_

_Andre put his hand over Damion’s mouth. “Let’s just get going, all right?”_

_Damion nodded, though his eyes did move to the tall figure standing a few paces away with her arms crossed across her breastplate. Would he see her again? Possibly in something besides armor? Or maybe nothing at all?_

_He certainly hoped so._

This time when the kitten hopped up onto her book, it wasn’t to immediately launch from it. Instead, he stood on his hind paws and put his front two on her breastplate as he sniffed at her face, starting with her chin.

With a sigh, Cassandra put her hands around his small body. “I am not Cullen,” she began, then paused. The whiskers were tickling at her lips now, and it seemed rude to talk while he was so very interested in them. As the ticklish sensation continued, her mouth twitched, and a vibration began under her hands, making her smile. “And you can be quite charming when you wish to be, I see.”

The rumbling grew louder, accompanied by a high-pitched meow. Then both his paws settled on her collar, and his head began bumping against her face insistently, rubbing over her mouth and cheeks incessantly.

“Now that is completely unnecessary--” Cassandra began, which seemed to trigger an even louder purr from the feline. The paws on her collar began to knead gently back and forth, and he began to make insistent little sounds as he pressed his head against her cheek. As her hands began to slowly stroke his sides, the sounds he made grew even more urgent, and he rubbed her face with a gentle, encouraging _mrrrrowr_ sound that, mixed with the purr, was… unaccountably adorable. “Oh, now, that is simply not fair,” she scolded him - but her stroking hands began to alternate between light petting and scratching with her blunt nails, both of which seemed to gain the Tiny seal of approval.

By the time Cullen approached Cassandra to ask her if she’d seen Tiny recently, his worry now at a high pitch, the kitten was firmly ensconced on her lap, watching her finger move along the page with interest as he purred.

“And this is my favorite part,” Cassandra was telling Tiny as Cullen got close enough to hear. “It’s always the best part of any good story. See?” Her finger stopped on the page. “That’s where they first kiss.”

Tiny batted at her finger, then looked up at Cassandra and meowed.

“Yes, it is quite exciting, I agree,” Cassandra said, scratching under his chin. “Shall I continue? You will enjoy the next part, I believe. It’s when the apostate finds a wounded cat and--”

_“Cassandra?”_ Cullen asked incredulously. “Are you… reading _smutty literature_ to Tiny?”

Cassandra looked up at Cullen, eyes wide, and immediately shut the book and shoved it under her thigh, evoking a squeak of protest from her erstwhile passenger. “What? No, no, of course not! What an absurd idea. I was… keeping him company until you returned for him. Of course. And that is _all.”_ Her glare challenged him to dare and say otherwise.

A lopsided grin on his face, Cullen crossed his arms across his chest. “Of course. A very silly idea. I wonder why it even occurred to me.” He held out one of his hands. “Do you want me to take him back?”

“Oh.” Cassandra looked down at Tiny, who meowed up at her and resumed his purr to let her know her abrupt movements had been forgiven. “Don’t you have some training to do? Perhaps I could watch him. So that he is not hurt, of course.”

Cullen clamped his lips together so that he didn’t laugh, but his mouth twitched suspiciously. He also refrained from pointing out that Tiny had been with him in training for several weeks by this point. It didn’t particularly matter, anyway. Cassandra was a good enough friend he’d gladly let Tiny remain with her if it pleased her. “That’s a good idea. I’ll come back afterwards to pick him up, shall I?”

“That sounds fine, Commander.” After Cullen moved away, she slowly pulled out the book and opened it in front of Tiny. “Now,” she said softly, stroking his fur, “where were we?” Tiny batted at the page and meowed, and she smiled. “Yes, I think that’s right. Shall I tell you the name of the mage’s new cat?”

Tiny rubbed his head against her hand and meowed, seemingly quite intent on the story as Cassandra continued to read to him.


	6. Paws For Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Tiny continues his self-appointed task to conquer Skyhold, can he defeat the bulwark that is the Iron Bull?

_The Herald's Rest_ was quiet this early in the morning, and the Iron Bull enjoyed that silence - it was a nice counterpoint to the endless questions running through his mind, after all. It was hard not to glance over at the empty chair to his left, thinking about how close he'd come to losing Krem, to losing the Chargers - to losing the Iron Bull. A few days of Krem and the others recovering in bed were better than them never rising from the wet grass on the Storm Coast, but it hadn't made the last few days any easier. He took a deep breath once more as he tried not to think about what it would have meant if Lavellan had decided to save the dreadnought instead.

It had changed things for him, that much was certain. "No more Hissrad," he said quietly, too soft for even Maryden to hear where she sat tuning her lute. But did that really mean he was now truly the Iron Bull and nothing else?

As he pondered the question with his hands steepled on his chest, he suddenly felt a tugging on his pants. Curious, he craned his head to look, since it was on the opposite side of his body from his eye, and chuckled when a paw appeared and latched higher onto his pants, before two pointed ears and big eyes came into sight close behind it. "Well, if it isn't the other Tiny of Skyhold," he grunted. Tapping his fingers on his thigh, he made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Come on," he told the kitten. "I'm not going to help, you know."

Tiny looked up at his face and meowed insistently, then focused on those tapping fingers. With an inkitten effort, he heaved himself up onto Bull's leg and then hunkered down. Soon Bull felt the familiar back-and-forth movement as Tiny's hiney began to wiggle and his tail began to lash, and then the creature launched forward, wrapping his forearms around Bull's hand with a little growl. His back paws began to kick at Bull's wrist as the tail lashed, and Bull had to smile as Tiny continued to single-mindedly gnaw on his knuckles.

"You know, I've been told by several people that I taste good," he told the kitten. "I guess you'd agree, right?"

Tiny didn't pause in his ferocious attack on the evil hand. In fact, he intensified his attack, his feet kicking at Bull's arm so hard that he managed to kick himself off of Bull entirely. Landing with a startled squeak, Tiny immediately launched himself upwards, claws snagging between the stripes of Bull's pants as he cattedly climbed his way up to the top of Bull's thigh again.

Bull, meanwhile, was checking out his hand with a grunt. "Your claws need clipping again. You got me good here." He pointed at his arm, but Tiny just batted at the pointing finger, ignoring the long pink lines on Bull's arm where he'd _almost_ broken the skin. "Hey, I wasn't asking for a demonstration," Bull told him firmly, then reached out and tapped Tiny's head.

The kitten's ears flattened and he hunkered down, but when Bull took his finger away, he immediately straightened up and batted at the finger again. When Bull wiggled his fingers in the air above Tiny's head, the kitten rose to sit on his haunches and grabbed for them, swiping in the air as those tempting targets kept dancing away from him.

Snatching the kitten up, Bull held the ball of fluff against his chest with one hand while he grabbed a paw with the other, then began to examine the claws. When Tiny meowed in protest, Bull said, "Oh, stop whining. You're still _purr_ fect." Tiny wriggled against his chest in protest of such a terrible pun, and Bull laughed. "Yeah, I guess that was pretty bad. Almost a _cat_ astrophe."

Tiny meowed in a long and insisting manner, and began to wriggle a bit more stringently, tail lashing hard against whatever part of Bull it could reach.

"All right, all right," Bull sighed as he relaxed his grip. "Stop your _cat_ erwauling, I give up. I'll leave them alone."

As soon as he was released, Tiny dug his claws into Bull's leather harness and pulled himself higher, then jumped onto Bull's shoulder. He turned around in a circle, then meowed and butted the ex-Qunari's ear.

"No, I don't have a fur collar for you to lie on," Bull said with a sigh. When the head butted his cheek, he absently reached up and began to scratch the cat's back. "Speaking of which, where is the Commander? Or is it time for his weekly duel with the Inquisitor?"

Tiny didn't deign to answer the question. Instead he sat down and began to groom, licking his paw and then scrabbling it over his head. His body began to vibrate with an almost obnoxiously loud purr as he did so, and Bull rolled his eye.

"Look, you're cute and all, but--" Abruptly it felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper on his ear as the purr got louder, and he jumped slightly. "Hey, what are you doing?" Bull demanded.

For answer, Tiny shifted closer to Bull, one paw ending up on Bull's cheek and the other one settling an inch or two below one of Bull's horns. It was a trifle awkward, but apparently not enough to make Tiny stop his suddenly all-important duty of cleaning Bull's ear. Instinctively Bull reached up, but when his hand closed around Tiny the little creature let out a hiss.

Undeterred, Bull pulled Tiny around and held him in front of his face. "We need to talk. My ears are not designed to be cleaned by that cactus you call a tongue. Stop that," he warned as Tiny reached towards his face. When the claws hooked into his eye patch, Bull had to engage in a swift battle of ownership, finally distracting the kitten by wiggling his fingers in the air again.

As Tiny meowed longingly and strove to capture said fingers, Bull sighed. "What am I going to do with you? And what am I supposed to call you, anyway? I'm Tiny already. You can't have my name." He frowned as he brought his hand down, and his voice became quite soft, almost a whisper, as he told the kitten what he could never tell another soul. "I need it. The Iron Bull…I think he's here," he tapped his chest, not caring when Tiny hooked his paw into the space between his thumb and forefinger. "But I don't know that he's all that's here. There used to be Hissrad, but…well. That ship has sailed. Or rather, it sank."

Tiny, whose paw hadn't moved, tilted his head as he looked up at Bull with apparently intent interest. When Bull stopped talking, he butted his head against the large hand, then looked up again with a little meow that turned into a chirp.

"All right, it blew up. Yeah, dreadnoughts don't sink," he said, repeating what he'd told Lavellan. "But…well, I was Qunari. Hissrad. Ben-Hassrath. The Iron Bull, he hasn't been around long, by comparison." When Tiny butted his hand, Bull smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know I'm right here, but…it's not all of me, you know? And the Inquisition, they gave me a name. Well, fine, the dwarf did, but it's me. I'm Tiny. So, yeah. I need that name, especially right now. And it's one of those weird southern rules that names have to be unique."

Tiny's head tilted the other way for a moment, and then he jumped again. This time his back paws landed on Bull's hand, who automatically opened it to support the kitten, and Tiny's paws landed on Bull's neck as he began to rub his head on Bull's elongated jaw.

"That won't work on me," Bull warned, but after a few moments, he laughed and reached up anyway, beginning to stroke the kitten along his back. As that impossibly loud purring started again, Bull said quietly, "Fine. Maybe it will. But we still need to settle the whole name thing. We don't want people to get us mixed up."

Tiny pulled back from his intensive head butting to meow questioningly at Iron Bull.

"Well, no, it's not _likely,"_ Bull admitted. "But you never know. It might happen. We're both adorable, we both have something sharp," he reached up to tap his horns, "and we both make a lot of noise."

Tiny made a chirping sound and then lay down on Bull's chest, still using his hand as a foundation. Curling his front paws under his body, he closed his eyes and wrapped his tail around himself.

As Tiny began to vibrate with sound, Bull chuckled and trailed two large fingers down the kitten’s back. "See?"

The thoughts in Bull's head slowed after that, though they didn’t quite disappear. With the purr filling the air around them, his eye slowly slid shut as his lips curved upwards. He wasn't sure exactly how long they stayed like that, but when the floor creaked, it took a second or two longer than normal to open his eye and focus on the man standing in front of them.

"Having fun?" Cullen asked, a smile playing on his face as he looked at the huge man with the tiny ball of fur nestled against his chest.

"Your cat ambushed me," Bull muttered. When he moved his hand to try to give the kitten back, however, Tiny's ears laid back flat and he hissed loudly. Startled, Bull returned to his previous position, and immediately the kitten settled back down.

"Be careful," Cullen cautioned. "You wouldn't want to invite his wrath. I'll just come back later, shall I?"

Bull nodded, face thoughtful as he looked down at Tiny. "Sounds good. See you then." As Cullen walked away, a giant finger began to rub under Tiny's chin, drawing the purr back into existence. "I get it. You want to switch names, don't you? I like the way you think."

Tiny's eyes half-opened, then slipped closed again. He yawned hugely, then snuggled his head against Bull's chest as if he never meant to move.

"So. The Iron Bull and Tiny. Those are my names." Bull smiled. "And you're Hiss Wrath. Sometimes Tiny. When you really need it. All right?"

Hiss Wrath's only response was to slowly move his tail up and down.

"Good. That's settled." Bull smiled, then let his eye slowly close once more.

Now the _Herald's Rest_ was truly at rest, in and out of his head.


	7. A Game of Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so at last the day has come: Fereldan Feline versus Tevinter Mage

It was a perfect day at Skyhold.

The cerulean sky dotted with puffy white clouds combined with the warm wind coming in from the south to ensure that the residents went about their day with a smile on their face. The Inquisitor was in residence, bustling about and taking her time to visit with everyone - young and old, high and low - which only made the smiles wider and brighter.

Everyone, that is, except Dorian.

The main reason for this lack of levity lay in the fact that his left arm was encased in a cast and sling, the result of an accident while returning to Skyhold. The pain was controlled through a careful regimen of elfroot and wine, but that did little to address the actual problem of his arm being broken. True, a judicious bit of magic mixed with potions would shorten the healing time from months to mere days, but it was a delicate process if he wanted to ensure that the healing proceeded without an issue. He'd seen botched bone healings before, and he would have none of it.

Which meant a few days limping around Skyhold like a broken-winged bird, trying not to display his discontent for all the world to see - a fate he only resigned himself to under extreme duress. Though he was never so gauche as to complain or frown, his normally sunny disposition had dimmed to a rather austere friendliness.

When he showed up to his regularly scheduled chess match with Cullen, though, he braced himself for the inevitable.

"She told me what happened, you know," the Commander informed him with that understated smirk of his.

Dorian sighed and waved his hand towards the Commander. "Of course she did. I don't see that we particularly have to dwell upon it, however."

Cullen's smirk eased into a grin as he began to set the pieces into place on the board. "So you don't want me to tease you about concentrating so hard on your book that you walked right off a cli--"

"Yes, precisely!" Mustache bristling, Dorian glared at Cullen, who only laughed and continued his task. _"Hmph._ Have it your way, Commander. Laugh at my predicament as you wish. It will only make your defeat all the sweeter."

"My defeat?" Cullen asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head as well? Perhaps I should go get Vivienne or Solas to check for bumps. You're obviously suffering from delusions."

Dorian didn't even dignify that with a response, instead choosing to focus his attention on the board. _I have to remember not to use the Nevarran gambit again - he's caught on to that all too quickly. Hmm, perhaps... yes, the Second Orlesian Outside opening move this time, I believe. He may be unfamiliar with it._ As he reached out to begin his opening salvo, however, a little furry paw darted out from beneath the table and snagged the piece away, dashing it to the ground.

With a blink, Dorian looked at the piece lying next to his foot, then back at the table, then up at Cullen. "You've trained him, haven't you? That's why you're so certain of victory."

Cullen leaned back so he could look under the table. "I don't think you _can_ train a cat. Certainly I haven't had much luck with any attempt to do so."

"Nonsense. _Any_ animal of a certain intelligence can be trained," Dorian dismissed with a sniff. "Watch." Retrieving the piece, he set it back into its original place, then made a show of settling back, waiting a few seconds, and reaching for it again.

And again, the paw snuck up and knocked the piece away before he could touch it.

"There, you see? Classic trained behavior." Dorian pointed an accusing finger at Cullen. "And he's _your_ pet, Commander. I never thought you would stoop so low as to cheat by using an innocent animal as your accomplice."

"I think you just underestimate his playfulness," Cullen countered. "I guarantee he'll do the same thing with my pieces."

Dorian settled back in his chair, gesturing expansively to the table. "Oh, do demonstrate."

"Fine." Cullen leaned forward and made to move his piece in a mirror of Dorian's maneuver. When he set his piece into place unmolested, he frowned and looked under the table. "That's strange."

"Not if he's been given his snatching orders," Dorian pointed out smugly. "It's precisely what I would expect to see if you had, in fact, taught him how to interfere only with your opponent."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cullen shook his head. "You can't honestly believe that."

Dorian raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward and reached for a different piece - which was promptly knocked to the ground with a quick swipe of the paw. "I rather think it would be difficult to believe anything else, Commander, given the evidence."

With a heavy sigh, Cullen leaned down and retrieved Tiny from under the table, ignoring his yowl of protest. Settling the feline on his shoulder, he said, "There. Now he can't reach the-- No, wait!"

Using his improved vantage, Tiny leapt onto the table, somehow managing to land in such a way as to skid to a halt without falling off - right in the middle of Dorian's pieces. The few pieces that weren't scattered by the jump were knocked off by his lashing tail as he turned in place a couple of times before settling his haunches on the table. Unperturbed by the havoc he'd wrought, the small feline looked at Cullen, blinking slowly.

"I will admit, I'm impressed," Dorian said, glancing at the catastrophic scattering of the chess pieces. "Not a one of your own pieces was so much as jostled. That kind of targeted destruction requires quite a bit of training. How many fish did you sacrifice to the noble cause of trouncing me, hmm?"

Cullen scowled at Tiny, though the twitching of his lips belied his seeming ill mood. "None, I assure you. This is entirely his own brand of mischief."

The cat yawned hugely, then curled his tail around his front feet before lifting a paw to begin a languid, unhurried bath.

"I rather suspect the game will need to be put on hold until our furry feline is distracted sufficiently or taken away," Dorian mused. "Preferably out of reach of any innocent pawns."

Rising to his feet, Cullen reached for Tiny, but his quarry slipped away, leaping onto Dorian's lap. As the mage let loose an _oof_ of surprise, the kitten crawled into the sling holding Dorian's broken arm in place. Dorian hissed in pain and reached in to remove him, but was met with resistance in the form of a paw extended with sharp claws.

"Tiny!" Cullen said, but when he attempted to extract the feline, the resistance was doubled. In addition, Dorian winced as the kitten moved to defend himself, and Cullen hastily withdrew. "I don't know what's gotten into him. I'll go get the Inquisitor, if she's available. Tiny hasn't spent a lot of time with her lately. Perhaps she will be a enough of a distraction that we can extract him."

"You do that," Dorian said in a strained voice as he cradled his arm. "I'll just... stay here and not move, shall I?"

As Cullen hurried away, Dorian craned his head to watch, waiting until Cullen was out of sight and earshot before he relaxed and grinned. "That went quite well, I thought."

Tiny's head popped out of the sling, and he looked up at Dorian with a chirruping little meow.

"Yes, yes, that was absolutely perfect. You're my new favorite partner in mischief, you know," the mage murmured as he began to scratch under Tiny's chin. "That's another fish I owe you, hmm?"

A rumbling purr awoke as Tiny leaned into Dorian's hand, and the mage's elegant eyebrow rose as he used his nails to scratch the kitten's head with a bit more vigor.

"All right, _two_ fishes. And a saucer full of cream, since you demand it." When the purr grew louder, Dorian chuckled. "You drive a hard bargain, my tawny friend."

His mightily tiny rumble echoed throughout the garden as the kitten closed his eyes, contentedly letting Dorian continue his ministrations. For the first time all day, Dorian's smile was as cheerful as any in Skyhold.


End file.
